


Fusion is Just a Cheap Tactic to Make Weak Angels Stronger

by AughtPunk



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphael is Ralphael, Based On My Shitpost, But Not a SU AU, Cannot Stress That, Crowley is Ralphael, F/M, Gem Fusion, Just look at these tags, M/M, Now I want to write a SU AU, Oh That Seems Normal You Say, Someone had to write it, Terrible Dance Skillz, They're Both Ralphael, Well Buckle In, You heard me, this is a silly fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:50:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AughtPunk/pseuds/AughtPunk
Summary: Look, someone had to write about Crowley and Aziraphale gem fusing to become the Archangel RaphaelAnd that person....is me.





	1. An Old Fashioned Hoedown

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering what madness has spurned me to create this you can check out my silly tumblr post [right here](https://aughtpunk.tumblr.com/post/185797068296/i-have-heard-your-various-crowley-is-raphael)

In the days following the non-apocalypse (which was not even worthy of an uppercase A) Crowley and Aziraphale were slow to accept the idea that They Were Free (worthy of all uppercase letters). Everything had gone too well, too smoothly, and too according to plan. You didn’t live six thousand years without becoming a close and personal friend to Murphy's Law. But as hours turned to days to weeks of not being taken down by the combined forces of Heaven and Hell the two of them realized the full weight of the situation.

_They were free._

And had no idea what to do with themselves.

***

“What if…”

Aziraphale lifted his head just enough to peer over his book at Crowley. The wicked old demon hadn’t moved an inch or spoken a word since he dramatically sprawled over Aziraphale’s desk that morning. He didn’t say anything either, but he had moved to the sofa when it became clear that Crowley wasn’t going to give up his spot anytime soon. “What if?”

“What if,” Crowley vaguely waved his hand “we burned--”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“No.”

“What if I said I wanted to burn some nice smelling candles?”

“No.”

“Or Nazis. I could be talking about burning Nazis. That’s always fun.”

Aziraphale lowed his book the entire way to give Crowley a proper glare. He couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes behind his glasses, but that never stopped him from making the demon squirm. The silence ticked on for just a click too long before Crowley snapped.

“Fine! If you’re so full of no fire ideas then you suggest something!” Crowley pouted and slid down the desk just enough to prop his leg up on the chair.

“Well,” Aziraphale paused, because the truth was he didn’t have any ideas that did or did not involve fire. The first week after the Not End was a blur of celebration and drinking. The second was spent going down a list of everything they’ve ever wanted to do but couldn’t under the gaze of their supervisors. (Highlights included Crowley volunteering to read to children at the local homeless shelter, followed by Aziraphale cursing everyone who still bought groceries with checks.) The more Aziraphale thought about it, going around setting fire to some neo-nazis did sound like a lovely way to spend the afternoon. He almost said it out loud when a small, nagging thought wormed its way to his mouth instead.

“What about dancing?”

“Dancing?” Crowley echoed.

“Yes! We could go dancing!” Aziraphale put his beloved book aside and jumped to his feet. “Oh heavens, I haven’t gone dancing in forever! And I know it’s been decades since you’ve been able to cut-a-rug, what with all the discos closing.”

“First,” Crowley said and grabbed onto the top drawer handle of the desk to keep himself steady, “You know I was behind the resurgence of swing music in the late 90’s so it hasn’t been that long. And second you don’t dance.”

“Yes I do. If you recall while you were sleeping away the nineteenth century--”

Crowley through a large bit of effort on himself managed to get his left leg onto the top shelf of Aziraphale’s desk. “That’s prancing. You were prancing. Big difference.”

“Well! I never!” Aziraphale let out the best _harumph_ he could muster, driving fear into the hearts of dust bunnies for miles around. “And I suppose that, that indecent gyrating you do is supposed to be dancing?”

For the second time in his life (third if he was being truthful to himself, and he wasn’t) Crowley allowed himself to fall. Unlike the other time (and the plummet he’s been experiencing since the Garden, since Rome, since breakfast that morning) this one ended with him rolling off the desk and somehow landing on his feet. “If that’s how you feel, angel, there’s only one way to settle this.”

Aziraphale went through his mental notes, making a whole world of different faces before settling on “Dance off?”

Crowley, who was going to say rock-paper-scissors, agreed with the determination of a man who most certainly didn’t have a different idea. “Dance off.”

***

Twenty minutes and multiple pieces of furniture pushed against the walls later the battlefield was ready. There had been a short debate of taking this back to Crowley’s place, but even celestial beings with the power of the unknowing at their hands could be lazy sometimes. Doing that would mean having to leave, drive over to Crowley’s, try to remember what they came to do, have a drink instead, and then maybe have that dance off in a few days. This way all they had to do was dance and then go get a drink. Far less steps.

“Don’t you have a single record that we can dance to, angel?” Crowley said as he flipped through Aziraphale’s limited collection. “Or featuring music from the past few centuries?”

“I do, too.” Aziraphale answered from his spot on the dance floor.

Crowley held up one of the offending records in the air. “The soundtrack to Sunday in the Park with George does not feature any songs that can be danced to.”

“Another Sondheim might. There’s a few toe tapping numbers in Into the Woods!”

“I thought you didn’t like that musical?”

“I didn’t like the second half. The first half is lovely.”

“Prefer Assassins myself.” Crowley muttered as he put the album back. Defeated by Aziraphale’s predictable taste in music Crowley turned to his music app of carefully curated songs. After skipping over half of them--a ritual performed by all playlist creators--Crowley pressed play and filled Aziraphale’s private office with the sound of violin music.

Aziraphale’s expressions as the music played went from shock, to approval, to confusion, and finally settling on the pained grimace of one that has put the pieces of the puzzle together but wasn't fond of the picture. “Is this a string quartet version of It’s The End of The World As We Know It?”

“Thought if was fitting, if no longer true. Shall we?”

What proceeded could only be described as the worst dancing ever seen before the eyes of Man or God. Individually Aziraphale’s gavotte and Crowley’s circa ‘76 disco fever dancing weren’t too horrific, but a dance floor consisting entirely of cheerful little kicks and hip thrusts should not be. Yet neither demon nor angel tried to stop this affront to all that was tasteful in this world. They were too busy smiling, laughing, making utter fools of themselves the only way true friends could. Love filled the spaces between notes, flooding both the room and men to the point of almost bursting. Crowley and Aziraphale reached out for each other just as the song reached its crescendo.

Their hands touched.

Their fingers intertwined.

Their feet tripped over themselves.

In an old bookstore within the heart of London two men fell. This wasn’t the first time for either of them, though one had slightly more experience than the other. None of this was unusual.

Only one man hit the floor. That part was unusual. 

 


	2. Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TWO PARTS

Much to the surprise of everyone Anathema and Newt waited a whole three days after the Not-End to tie the knot. They debated eloping the moment the embers of the second prophecy book cooled but came to the agreement they should inform their mothers first. The ceremony itself was a small affair in an equally small chapel in Tadfield with only said mothers there to act as witnesses. All in all it was a lovely wedding for a couple eager to live the rest of their non-destined lives together.

The after party had been a bit more chaotic.

Not a reception, that implied the use of ancient rituals such as cake cutting, candle lighting or the chicken dance. The plan had been to go to the local pub and have a nice meal together celebrating their marriage and the world not ending. (Mrs. Pulsifer wasn’t exactly sure what the other three were going about what with prophecies and such but she was happy enough knowing her son had found love and used that as a reason to celebrate.) They were mere steps from entering the pub when Anathema felt a tingle on the back of her neck.

Newt had stopped too, wearing an expression of mild confusion. “Honey,” he said, “do you feel that?”

Anathema nodded. Their mothers were thankfully too distracted with sharing embarrassing childhood moments to notice anything. Good. She took a deep breath and turned her attention outward. There was something in the air. Not a storm brewing but not a cloudless sunny day either. Even more curious was the nagging suspicion that she had felt this energy before. She opened the pub’s door and wasn’t too shocked when she saw an angel and a demon sitting at the bar.

That’s right. She had felt this same energy right before getting hit with a car. No wonder it rang a bell.

The events of the evening went as followed:

  * Angel and Demon (Anathema wasn’t sure which was which) congratulate the newlyweds and give them their blessings.
  * Angel and Demon (Would it be fair to assume the one in white is the angel and the one in black is the demon?) have far too many drinks and continue to give their very literal blessings to everyone else in the pub as well.
  * Angel and Demon (Wait. Hang on. Didn’t the one in white say something about the Garden of Eden and an apple tree back during the almost end?) still filled with joy and alcohol decided to spread their blessings to the rest of the town while they were at it.
  * Chaos ensued. (Maybe they were both angels? Or both demons. Anathema still wasn’t sure. She would be happy to hear that they weren’t sure either.)



By the time the local law enforcement had shown up to join in the celebrational drinking Anathema and Newt decided to quietly take their leave. Their cottage was thankfully far enough from the epicenter of the party to get a little peace and quiet on their wedding night. The next morning the town of Tadfield as a whole found itself slightly hungover and filled with a warm fuzzy feeling that only came about when angels were too liberal with their divinity.

A little later on Anathema discovered that she had also been blessed with the Angel and Demon’s contact information.Their number had been already programmed into her phone under  the name AZIRA&CROW with a picture of Angel and Demon taking a selfie together.

She still wasn’t sure which was which.

***

After a rather eventful honeymoon Anathema and Newt returned to Tadfield for good. They had discussed other places, of course, but the small town had grown on them. That and it was rather fun to mess with that stuffy old man with the dog, wasn’t it? Always glaring and accusing the newlyweds to being up to no good. If Anathema was being truthful to herself she would have admitted she also wanted to stay to keep a close eye on Adam. She trusted the boy, yes. It was the rest of the world she didn’t trust.

“Experiment 55.3. Date, um, I think it’s Tuesday. Time, a little bit after lunch. Test subject, my beloved amazing sweet magnificent--”

Across the dining room table Newt smiled at his wife. “Darling--”

“--and very handsome husband Newt.” Anathema said before hitting the stop button on the old fashioned recorder she held in her hand. “You ready, honey?”

Newt nodded, but also added an “I still don’t think this is going to work.”

“We still have to test it. That’s what you do with theories.” Anathema flashed her husband a smile before hitting the record button again. “Test subject Darling Husband, can you tell me what is on the table between us?”

Newt glanced down at the grey brick sitting between them. “It’s one of those old Gameboys, right? Circa 1989?”

“Correct. Is the handheld system on?”

“No, but I did see you put fresh batteries in and try it out earlier. Was playing Tetris for an hour also part of your research?”

“Oh yes, very important.” Anathema pushed the old Gameboy closer to Newt. “I want you to pick it up and turn it on.”

“Sweetie--”

“Please, Newt.”

Newt picked up the Gameboy with an expression of dread and crushing hopeless certainty and, after glancing Anathema’s way for confirmation, turned the system on.

The light on the side of the screen turned on.

The system let out a musical ding before the Tetris theme kicked in.

“It worked?” Newt looked up at Anathema with stars in his eyes. “It worked!”

“I knew it!” Anathema jumped up and quickly rounded the table to give Newt a proper celebratory kiss. “Nothing can destroy a Gameboy! We’ll have to test an old Nintendo next. And a Super Nintendo! We have to find out where the cut off point is because you, my dear sweet husband have a lot of video games to play and I can’t be married to someone who hasn’t played at least one Zelda--”

Anathema’s statement about the importance of video games in a relationship was cut off by her phone going off. After taking a few steps from her husband--she just got this phone after all--she fished the phone out of her pocket and answered before checking to see who was calling.

“Hello?”

(Later on when all the dust had settled Anathema would do her best to describe the noise she heard to Newt. A bit like a tornado full of drill bits, she’d say. No, that’s not quite right, imagine if there were also some nice down pillows tossed in the storm as well. Okay, now take that noise and imagine that instead of hearing it you instead feel it reverberate through every cell in your body down to your deepest, oldest memory and echo back to sound something a bit more like two men screaming over each other while a string quartet cover of Flagpole Sitta plays in the background. Yes, yes that’s more like it.)

Anathema tore the phone from her ear and finally looked at the screen. Ah. The Angel and Devil. Well that explained the nearly indescribable noise. She tentatively moved the phone closer and shouted as loud as she could, “I CAN’T HEAR WHAT YOU’RE SAYING WITH MORTAL EARS!”

The noises on the other end of the line went silent which thankfully included the music. Anathema heard distant muffled talking before one of them spoke. The taller one who dressed in black. Most-Likely-Demon. “Are you currently having sex with your husband?”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I’ll take that as a no. Put us on speaker phone.”

“Wha--”

“Please!” A second voice pleaded. Most-Likely-Angel no doubt, “We need your help!”

“And the only other human we know is an eleven year old boy.” Most-Likely-Demon added.

Anathema glanced at Newt, wondering if she should point out the obvious, but decided against it. “Yes! Sure! Of course I’ll help! Let me put you on speaker, hang on.” She pressed the speaker button and was well on the way of letting the odd pair on the other end know when everything exploded. Luckily for everyone involved the explosion was more on a metaphysical level and the only side-effect on the physical plane was a loud pop and the sudden appearance of a man who wasn't there a moment before.

Man was not the correct descriptor.

Using the word Human was frankly pushing it.

The shape--yes let’s go with that--changed. It shifted, it grew and shrank and flipped from solid to light to flat to sharp to feathers to wings to fire to rings to the sensation of a lovely spring morning to the sudden vertigo of freefall back to the feathers and wings so many damned wings before the shape hit the floor and settled into a ball of light resembling a fluffy sheep before leaking out to fill the silhouette of a kneeling human that in a flash suddenly became oh-so _real_.

Anathema’s first thought was they didn’t look like anyone she knew. Her second thought riding up on the heels of the first thought was no, oh no they very familiar don’t they? Not as a whole but as pieces patched together in a human-shaped quilt. A pointy nose but a soft face, bright red hair that cascaded down the back in curls, and a tattoo on the side of their face that she thought was a snake but no, not exactly. It was of a snake wrapped around a stick. The only bit of modesty was afforded by a pair of massive argent wings blocking the view.

The stranger looked up at Anathema with pale blue eyes tinted with an unmistakable sorrow.

“Anathema?” They asked, their voice echoing in their own throat.

“Aziraphale?” Anathema took a step closer. “Crowley?”

The stranger let out an exhausted tired laugh and answered, “You know, I’m not sure.”


	3. Suddenly, A Person

While that whole mess with the shifting angel-demon-thing was going on Newt had slipped into the kitchen to fetch some tea. One might accuse him of being a coward for leaving his wife to deal with the mess, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. You see, Newt was a special type of person (all of that exploding computers and witch hunting aside). He was the type of person that, during a massive crisis, makes sure everyone has a nice cup of tea and a plate of biscuits to nibble on.

There’s one Fetches Tea Person in every family, social circle, workplace, or anywhere you may find more than two humans. They never choose the role, but when everyone else in the tribe is dealing with tragedy or grief they’re the ones that immediately head straight to the kitchen. The exact rituals changed from culture to culture. Sometimes they would make a casserole for a grieving widow, or get a cup of water for the person in shock, or nip down to the store and get some cheap sandwiches for everyone to eat while the rest of the group waited for results. For Newt it was tea. If it weren’t for Anathema there was a good chance he would have spent the Apocalypse making everyone a nice warm cup of tea, Horsemen and Satan included.

“I’ve made tea.” Newt announced as he returned to the dining room with tea set in hand. He was happy to see that the glowing-shifting-hard-to-look-at being had settled into a far more normal, and far more naked, human. He set the tea tray on the table between the angel-demon thing and his dear wife. “Do you want me to go find some clothes…?” He asked the room in general, just in case the china cabinet wished to express its opinion on the matter.

“No,” replied the angel-demon (should he capitalize those words? They seem to him they should be a bit more proper). The Angel-Demon (ah that was better) snapped his fingers and looked honestly shocked by the simple ashen robe that appeared on his frame. “This...this is also new.”

“Fascinating.” Anathema said, her eyes firmly on the snake-rod tattoo on Angel-Demon’s face. “Excuse me, I have to check something. Newt could you be a dear and make sure our guest doesn’t explode into a mass of wings again while I’m gone?”

Newt let out a sad squeak as Anathema left the room, leaving him all alone with the Angel-Demon. For the life of him Newt wasn’t sure if the expression on the man’s face was one of worry, fear, or wing-exploding. He poured the man a cup of tea and hoped for the best. “Sugar?”

“Yes.” Said the Angel-Demon the exact same time it said “No.”

“Milk?” Newt ventured.

That got him a “No.” and “Yes.” from the Angel-Demon.

Newt, the proper English gentleman that he was, sacrificed his own tea cup and made up two for the Angel-Demon. He watched as the man took a sip from one, make an odd face, try the other, and then make an even stranger face.

“Um,” Newt said looking at the third cup, “Milk and sugar? Or neither?”

Now that expression on the Angel-Demon had ‘about to get feathers everywhere’ written all over it. Thankfully he was saved from a very long afternoon spent vacuuming when Anathema returned with a book titled Something-something Occult Symbols something. “So you’re both in there, correct?” She asked. “How does that...work?”

The Angel-Demon sighed and yes, yes Newt was certain it sounded like two people sighing at once. It wasn’t as obvious when the Angel-Demon spoke but the echo was there. “Not well. Right now it feels like there’s two people in a very cramped wardrobe fighting over a microphone while also driving a car--No I don’t know how there’s a car also in the wardrobe!” He snapped seemingly at himself. “But that’s what it feels like!”

Anathema tapped her fingers against the book in her hands before asking “Aziraphale?”

“Yes?” The Angel-Demon asked in the angel’s usual voice.

“Crowley?”

“Yeah?” Said the demon’s voice. No echo on either.

“And you?”

“Newt?” Newt answered, slightly confused.

“Not you, darling.” She pointed at the Angel-Demon, “him.”

The Angel-Demon frowned. “We told you, We’re--”

“Two people smashed together, I know.” Anathema opened the book, “but that’s not possible in a physical or spiritual sense.”

The Angel-Demon pointed at himself and said “Angel” and “Demon” at the same time as if pointing out the obvious.

“Well yes,” Newt chimed in, “You are both, ah, unique, but Anathema has a point. No one can just sort of be two people. Let’s say I was combined with my old school chum Arthur. Wonderful fellow but awful at math, unlike me. If you mixed us together you wouldn’t get someone who was both good and bad at math, but--”

“Mediocre?” The Angel-Demon asked, and after just a beat too long he added, “with math?”

“Sorta of a math grey spot I suppose.” Newt said as his eyes flickered from the silvery wings and the ashen robe. Oh dear. The Angel-Demon was downright glaring at him and Newt rather felt like he had taken a wrong step somewhere. He looked over to Anathema in hopes of salvation but she was still nose-deep in the book. Oh dear oh dear. What was he supposed to do now? His experience with meaningless small talk was strained at best. “So uh, quick question, was Jesus really the Son of God?”

That made the Angel-Demon brighten up as the angel’s voice came out, “Oh funny story there actually! You see-”

“Raphael?”

The second the name slipped out of Anathema’s lips the Angel-Demon turned his head to look in her direction. “I’m sorry?” He asked, the echo in his voice scratching at his throat.

Anathema adjusted her glasses and began to read out loud from her book, “Archangel Raphael, is the patron saint of travelers, the blind, happy meetings, nurses, physicians, medical workers, matchmakers, and marriage. Raphael's name means ‘God heals’. This identity came about because of the biblical story that claims he ‘healed’ the earth when it was defiled by the sins of the fallen angels in the apocryphal book of Enoch.”

“Happy meetings and travel?” The angel asked the same time the demon asked “Matchmakers and marriage?”

“While he is traditionally shown standing on a fish and holding a staff, some artists depict him with the Rod of Asclepius, an ancient symbol of healing and miracles shaped like a snake wrapped around a staff.” She picked up her cell phone, switched it to selfie mode, and handed it over to the Angel-Demon. “Just like the tattoo on your face.”

The Angel-Demon took the phone, his eyes already locked on the display. Newt had been lost on the Angel-Demon’s expressions before, but this time he could see the confusion written all over his face. Confusion and something else. Sorrow. Yes, Newt thought as tears pricked the corner’s of the Angel-Demon’s eyes, heartbreaking sorrow.

“A-Archangel?” The Angel-Demon asked, his voice no longer echoing. But it wasn’t the demon or angel’s voice, either.

“Archangel.” Anathema answered, “One of the top four. Do you...know him? Met him? Ever heard of him?”

The Angel-Demon shook his head, finally causing the tears to fall.

Newt picked up the teapot and gestured to the remaining cup. “Milk and sugar?”

“Neither.” Replied Raphael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's me I'm the Tea Maker cept normally it's stress-baking cookies


	4. This Was Going to Happen Halfway Through Part 2 Orginally

Adam really did try to be normal.

Most days he was just an average kid with an average life enjoying the end of a--cannot stress this enough--average summer. Days were spent playing with his friends, walking his so amazingly average dog and getting into harmless trouble. Very harmless. Enough that it should be in italics and capitalized. _Harmless_.

Then a week ago Old Mrs. Periwinkle from two houses down passed away in her sleep. Everyone was sad, but it was the type of sadness that came with lots of time to prepare. The Youngs didn’t go to the wake or funeral, although his parents always made sure to say a few kind words to any family members they ran into. His Mom did have a private talk with Adam about it, saying that she saw how hard he was taking the news but it was natural to mourn and how Mrs. Periwinkle was in a better place.

Adam sat there and listened, nodding and pretending that was the case and not because he saw Death that night. His Mother was a very realistic woman who wouldn’t have listened to his story of how he watched Death from his bedroom window enter Mrs. Periwinkle’s house and leave shortly after. He also would never tell his mother about how Death gave him a little wave before vanishing into the night air.

He did tell his friends about everything the next day, even before the news of Mrs. Periwinkle’s death had gotten around. That was part of Their Deal. While the rest of Tadfield had forgotten the events of the Almost-End they did not. Adam wasn’t sure if it was because they were there, or because of the whole killing-personifications-of-the-worst-of-humanity thing, or simply because Adam didn’t want them to forget.

Adam really did try his best to be normal. It’s just that he wasn’t very good at it.

“Adam! Miss, I mean, Mrs. Device is on the phone!”

Adam, who had been in the middle of trying to teach Dog to dance, rushed inside the house at the sound of his Mother’s voice. Mrs. Device had remembered the Not-End as well, but Adam was pretty sure that wasn’t his doing. Must have been a witch-thing. It was nice to have An Adult to talk to about everything that happened, and it gave him an excuse to go over and watch weird old unsolved mysteries epidsodes together. Newt even joined them sometimes even though the guy radiated ‘has no idea how to deal with children’ energy. Which according to Anathema gave his aura a nice pink tint.

“She says it’s urgent.” Adam’s Mother stage whispered before handing him the receiver. To his Mom that meant Mrs. Device urgently needed help with weeding her garden or some other chore a child would do for money. Adam would prefer that than Anathema calling over some world-ending matter as he was trying to save up for his own phone.

He’d barely got in a hello when Anathema cut him off with a sharp “Did you do something to Crowley and Aziraphale?”

This wasn’t a chore-call. Dang.

“Who?”

“The angel and demon who stood beside you at the End of the World.”

“OH them!” Adam said, slightly shocked to learn that they had proper names, “No?”

Anathema sighed, “Is that a No-I-Didn’t or a Yes-But-I-Don’t-Want-To-Get-In-Trouble?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Adam said a bit too loud, causing his Mom to look his way. He lowered his voice and added “Well I fixed the demon’s car and the angel’s bookshop ‘cause they were really nice and helped me through all that with the desert and flaming sword and yelling at their bosses and Dad always said that good work should be rewarded and that didn’t cause anything bad, did it?”

“No, wait, let me go check.”

The phone went silent. There was some muffled talking in the distance. A little shouting. Adam stared out the window and watched Dog chase after his own tail for a bit until he heard someone on the other end pick up the phone.

“Adam,” Said a male voice he didn’t recognize, “did you do this? I’m, we’re not angry, we just want to know how to fix it.”

“I didn’t do it!” Adam said loud enough that his Mom was frowning at him now. “I don’t even know what happened!”

The voice on the other end of the phone, who Adam will learn in about two minutes time is named Raphael, went into a brief yet confusing explanation of what happened earlier that day. Raphael told him about the dancing, the shifting forms, the being-two-people-in-one, and how he was not an Archangel named Raphael. Raphael stressed this part multiple times, sometimes while speaking in a voice that was closer to the angel or the demon’s.

(Adam was preeeetty sure the angel had been the one with the fiery sword and the demon was the one who with the snake eyes. Pretty sure. Mostly sure.)

“So you’re both the angel and demon.” Adam said.

“Yes.”

“But you’re also a third person who is not named Raphael.”

“No, we are two people who are currently in a form containing the both of us.”

Adam nodded to himself. Third person named Raphael, got it. “By dancing.”

“Right-o!”

Something in the back of Adam’s mind clicked. Not anything having to do with demons or angels, but a normal brain-click when one suddenly remembers the name of a thing that’s been on the tip of their tongue all day. Or in Adam’s case since Raphael started arguing with himself. “Mr. Raphael--”

“We are not--”

“--can you let Mrs. Anathema know I’ll be there in ten? Thanks bye!”

Adam hung up the phone and escaped out the front door before his Mom could question him about the call. He reminded himself the entire way to Pepper’s that he was a normal kid with normal kid friends who did very normal things like hang out and watch cartoons together on rainy days. Nothing weird or strange about any of that. Sure he may know a witch, a demon and an angel but he was still very normal. You know, just in case this was somehow his fault.

***

It took Adam and his friends twelve minutes to get to Anathema’s, mostly because Wensleydale had a hard time finding his other shoe. Pepper was the first one off her bike and running up the walkway to Anathema’s front door before the others even stopped. She did wait until everyone else--including Wensleydale and his mismatched shoes--was next to her before she knocked.

The door opened to Anathema standing on the other side along with Newt and a man none of the children had seen before but oddly looked familiar to all of them. They spoke at once in the same droning tone all children take when being forced to greet adults.

“Hello Mrs. Anathema, hello Mr. Newt, hello Mr. Amalgamation of Good and Evil.”

That got Anathema to raise an eyebrow.

“Pepper’s idea.” Adam explained.

“I wanted to call him Crowphale.” Said Brian.

“Actually, we should let him tell us his own name,” said Wensleydale, “and his preferred pronouns.”

Pepper beamed at Wensleydale, happy that he remembered her entire speech about that from last month.

“Come in,” Anathema said as she ushered the children inside, “tea?”

Adam stood to attention as he mentally switched over to Leader Mode. “There’s no time Mrs. Anathema! Where’s your laptop?!”

“My laptop?”

“Or tablet!” Said Brian.

“Phone?” Offered Pepper.

“Actually a smart TV would be best.” Noted Wensleydale.

Anathema frowned, “We don’t have a--”

“Yes you do, it’s in here” Said the familiar-unfamiliar voice from the living room. Low and behold where there was once a rather nice picture of the countryside was an extraordinarily large flatscreen TV.

Newt seemed to struggle with his inner thoughts before deciding on “Where’s the painting?”

“Either in the bookshop’s backroom or by my greenhouse, not sure who won out in the end.” Said Raphael from his spot on the couch. He was doing his best to slouch in a way that could still be considered good manners. Raphael greeted the children with a short nod. “Adam. Stabby children. You didn’t have to come.”

“Of course we did.” Adam said, puffing out his chest. “You helped saved the world! We have to help, right guys? Guys?”

Adam finally noticed that his normally talkative friends were staring at Raphael. Or, to be more exact, his rather large silvery wings. That’s right, the three of them missed that part in the desert. He had explained it to them afterwards, and how when he held the angel and demon’s hands he was filled with an overwhelming feeling of safety and the knowledge that they would back him up when no one else could. It was nice, he tried to explain. What Adam didn't explain that he got the same feeling from hugging Dog, mostly because he thought it might have been embarrassing for the angel and demon. He nudged Pepper in the side to snap her out of it.

“Adam said you turned into one person after dancing together.” Pepper said as she did her best not to stare at the very large shiny wings.

“That’s the long and short of it, yes.” Raphael carefully said, suddenly worried.

The children let out a short collective cheer before joining Raphael on the couch. Anathema and Next hovered awkwardly nearby before settling in on a loveseat that hadn’t been there before. Adam grabbed the brand-new remote off the table and triumphantly turned the TV on.

“What are you doing?” Raphael asked, nervously eyeing the children, Adam in particular.

“Trying to remember my parent’s Netflix password.” Adam muttered before getting it on the third try. “There! Okay, so I think I know what’s going on with you guys. But it’d be weird to skip ahead so we gotta start from the beginning. Don’t worry it’s only like twelve episodes.”

Whatever Raphael was going to say to that was cut off by the opening theme of the cartoon the children had put open. The Them sang along at the top of their lungs while Newt sang at a far more reasonable level.

“ _WE! Are the Crystal GEMS--_ ”


	5. Okay I think it's Going to be Six Parts

Raphael.

 _Archangel_ Raphael.

There were no Archangels named Raphael.

The humans could be wrong. Humans got a _lot_ wrong when it came to heaven and hell. And religion. And gardening. Humanity got a lot wrong about gardening, a fact that was a constant thorn in Raph--

 _Crowley_. In Crowley’s side.

That was the worst part, even worse than hearing a name that didn’t belong to anyone and seeing an unfamiliar face on the phone’s screen. Far, far worse than having to juggle three cups of tea that all tasted wrong. He was Crowley. He was Aziraphale. He was both. He was terrified that he was neither. And the longer he stayed in this form the fuzzier the edges between Crowley and Aziraphale became. Luckily Adam and his friends’ cartoon proved to be a very good distraction.

“Rebecca Sugar, huh?” Raphael said as the credits rolled for the twelfth time. “Name rings a bell. I think she’s one of heaven’s.”

Anathema lifted her head slightly off of Newt’s shoulder. “One of heaven’s what.”

Raphael shrugged. “Good eggs. Humans that get a gold star sticker on their soul.”

Anathema nodded and dropped her head back on her snoozing husband’s shoulder. Funny how time moved for humans. It had only been three hours since they started watching and most of them were already drifting off to sleep. Maybe it was the darkness of the room, or the television’s droning sound, or the feeling of love and safety that hung thick in the air. Raphael had to admit that at least half of him was ready to follow the crowd and pass out for a bit.

Adam and his friends were fine, if a bit loopy in that exhausted child way. Unlike the adults they had spent the marathon moving from seat to seat, arguing and singing along until they reached the very important twelve episode. They didn’t sing during that one. Instead they spent the entire time watching Raphael as if waiting for him to say something. They were still looking at him as the credits rolled. It was getting weird.

“You,” Raphael pointed at the television, “think that’s what happened to me.”

“You totally gem-fused.” Said Pepper.

“You were even dancing when it happened!” Added Brian.

Wensleydale tried to say something but it came out as a yawn. It probably wasn’t important anyway.

Raphael sunk back into the couch. He had put his wings away hours ago for the sake of comfort. “Doesn’t mean it happened because of...gem...magic...stuff.”

“But it might work the same way!” Adam said, “Like, try disagreeing or fighting over something with yourself!”

“If that worked I would have split apart right away. Not be stuck like,” Raphael waved his hand, “this. We’re an _angel_ and a _demon_. Disagreeing is our nature.”

“So? Amethyst and Pearl fight all the time and they could still fuse. They’re like total opposites.” Said Pepper.

And fought more than Aziraphale and Crowley did, thought Raphael.

Than _we_ ever fought, Raphael quickly amended.

“Right, let’s assume that the laws of Heaven and Hell do in fact match up with laws of Steven Universe,” Raphael said only dimly aware that he was the first person in all of creation to do so, “what else do I need to know about this fusion?”

Brian perked right up. “Well if you get hurt too much you’ll unfuse, if your two parts can’t agree you’ll unfuse, um, uh--”

“When you’re fused you’re a Con-ver-Sa-tion and way more powerful than your two halves!” Pepper said, singing the word conversation for some reason.

“Actually, when you fuse you become a new person altogether.” Said Wensleydale.

Adam nodded, “Yeah, it’s like, when Pearl and Amethyst fuse together they don’t become PearlAmethyst--”

“Pearlthyst.” Said Pepper.

“Ametharl.” Said Brian.

“Peamethystl.” Said Wensleydale.

“They become Opal. Or in your case--”

“Raphael.” Raphael said, his head spinning and not for the usual reasons, “but I’m not my own person. I’m them! They're my memories! They are what make me me! I remember everything they do! From both sides! The dancing, dinner, the secret charity work, the Ritz, the switching, the Not-End, the Garden--”

Raphael realized a second too late that he had opened a door within himself that should have been kept closed. All the other memories of Crowley and Aziraphale had been just sort of lying on the floor of his brain as it were. Countless memories of each other spread over centuries each painfully glowing of love and friendship all within arm’s reach. But when Raphael thought back to the Garden and the memory of the first rain another one popped up instead. A much, much earlier one.

***

 _“What in God’s name did you_ **_do_** _?!”_

_Lucifer held up his hurt hand, seemingly unaware of the golden ichor dripping down his forearm. “Raphael, please, no need to invoke Her in this. It was an accident, I promise.”_

_“An accident.” Raphael repeated as he watched the ichor drip onto Lucifer’s blinding white robes, “You accidentally stuck your hand into the mouth of a beast.”_

_“Yes! No! You must understand! See that beast down there by the water? The one with the long v-shaped snout and all of the teeth?”  
_

_Raphael glanced down into the Garden and did in fact see a rather smug looking scaly beast sitting on the water’s edge. “Yes?”_

_“Well one of those, those, damn! How to describe them.” Lucifer, like all of the other angels, were struggling with that odd period where all of the animals were created but not named. The naming, She said, would come later. Which was fine and dandy for later but made it near impossible to fill out paperwork. “The small things that fly and are covered with feathers. One was in its mouth!”_

_Ah. There it was. Raphael took a long, calming breath before saying, “So you stuck your arm in the scaly-beast’s mouth to save the small-feathered-one.”  
_

_“Yes!”_

_“And that your injury wasn’t done out of malice but because you rudely interrupted the scaly-beast’s teeth cleaning and the small-feathered-one’s dinner.”  
_

_“Yes wait what?”_

_“Mutualism. Uriel thought it up. One animal helps the other and both benefit.”_

_Raphael loved Lucifer, as he loved Michael and Gabriel and all the other angels of varying importance. He deeply and truly loved them all. But deep down he also loved seeing the absolute stunned look on Lucifer’s face when the other angel realized he was a bloody idiot. “So the small-feathered-one--"_

_“Wasn’t in danger at all.” Raphael offered Lucifer his hand, “and you would have known that if you actually came to the last meeting instead going off with your friends.”_

_Lucifer grumbled something-or-other about the pointless nature of meetings as he rested his hand within Raphael’s. For a moment Raphael considered pointing out that clearly the meetings were important, or how everyone was worried about Lucifer’s no-show, or perhaps state yet again for the millionth time that eternity that he didn’t approve of Lucifer’s friends. Instead Raphael willed Lucifer’s flesh to mend and for the ichor to be driven back into his veins.  
_

_“Thank you, Raphael.” Lucifer said, his smile almost glowing in the newly created light. He certainly was the brightest of all of them. So much that when he flew off Raphael was able to spot the gold ichor stain on his white robe._

_What a shame, Raphael thought, that would never come out of the fabric. The stain could be easily fixed, of course, but he’d know it was still there underneath.  
_

_***_

“--what if we skipped ahead to Jail Break?” Asked Adam from a few thousand miles away.

“Hey guys?” Asked Pepper with a note of unease in her voice.

“He’ll miss all the context!” Said probably Brian, “we gotta watch the important episodes at least!”

“Guys?”

“Actually they’re all important.” Said most certainly Wensleydale.

“Guys!”

“What?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Raphael...has too many eyes. That's not good, right?” 


	6. Spoilers for Season 1 of Steven Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SU Spoilers, I guess?

Time moved differently for mortals than it did for immortals. No one was sure why, but it probably was related to that whole limited time on Earth thing they had going on. To Anathema the three hours spent watching Steven Universe went by in a blink of an eye while the short nap she took felt like hours, not minutes. Another example was how the mad scramble to get out of the living room and to safety felt both like an eternity and far too fast at the same time. Now that she, Newt and the kids were safely hidden behind the overturned dining room table, she would prefer that time went back to its normal click thank you very much.

“What the hell happened?” Anathema hissed at the children, her tone a bit rougher than she would normally use against them.

“I didn’t do it!” Said Adam, yet again. “We were talking about what episodes to watch and they just sorta did that!”

‘Did That’ was a funny way to describe the light show currently happening in her and Newt’s living room. She had only seen a glimpse before running out with the others and that was more than enough to ensure feather-based nightmares for the rest of her life. The worst part was the...thing...going on was silent. If it wasn’t for the multi-color flashes of light bouncing off the ways she would have thought the room to be empty.

Newt, who was holding a tea tray as a shield, said, “Well something you were talking about triggered this. What could it have been?”

***

_Time moved differently for immortals than it did for mortals. For starters time didn’t really exist in the before-time. There were no hours, minutes or seconds. Days only seemed to pass when She willed them to. Angels just sort of lived from duty to duty, one event after the next with no thought to if sorting the insects had lasted about half an hour or several millennium. The way celestial beings thought of history was even simpler: there was Before the Fall, and After the Fall.  
_

_None of them really wanted to think about the During the Fall bit in the middle._

***

“We were trying to figure out what episode to watch next.” Wensleydale said, too scared to remember his verbal tic.

Adam nodded, “I wanted to jump straight to Jail Break so Raphael could see that Garnet was a fusion--”

“--spoilers--” Newt mumbled. 

“--made of love. You know, just like Raphael!”

“They are?” Asked Anathema, who quickly added, “And I already figured out Garnet was a fusion honey, so don’t worry.”

“Wait, _how_?”

“She has two gems while everyone else has one, honey. I thought it was _obvious--_ ”

***

_Lucifer began questioning God. He then began angrily questioning God, shouting at her, demanding answers to questions no other angel dared to ask. Questions that had been simmering on the tip of Raphael’s tongue since the beginning. They were on the lips of every angel yet only Lucifer had been brave enough to ask them. Stupid enough to ask. Stupid enough to keep asking when it was clear She wasn’t going to give him any answers._

_So he Fell._

_It was an important enough event to warrant a capital letter.  
_

***

“Raphael was talking too!” Pepper interjected, “Right before he got all quiet, remember?”

“About what?” Asked Newt.

Brian made a face, “Something about their memories. I think they were talking about old dates.”

“Gross.” Helpfully added Wensleydale.

Adam snapped his fingers which, much to everyone’s relief, didn’t cause anything to happen. “That’s right! It was, um, dancing, dinner, the Not-End, and I think a garden?”

Anathema pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, “A garden, or _The_ _Garden_?”

***

_The Fall had taken an eternity. The Fall had taken no time at all._

_Raphael watched Lucifer as he fell, his once-beautiful light growing dim, his screams muffled by smoke and flame. His friends fell next, but instead of Lucifer’s shocked cries their screams were filled with curses flung at God and her angels. The third wave of fallen angels were silent. Raphael recalled seeing one angel--their name long forgotten-- smiling sadly before joining the others in free-fall. That was the infinitely long moment that Raphael realized the third wave of angels were choosing to fall. They would rather face the nightmares of Hell then spend another second in Heaven.  
_

_Raphael could feel something tugging at his ankles. Not enough to pull him down, but enough to insure he wouldn’t be able to fly back up._

***

“Oh hell, that’s right.” Newt said, “they mentioned something about that when everything was ending, didn’t they?”

“That Crowley was a snake and Aziraphale was on apple tree duty.” Anathema said, “Which means they were two people at that point.”

“What, are you seriously saying that the whole Adam and Eve thing happened?” Pepper asked.

“Not much of a shock. Satan did show up at the end there.” Adam said, the name leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

***

_Of course Gabriel tried to stop him. He begged Raphael to stay. To ignore the pull and remain in the light of the Lord and all Her splendor. Uriel and a few of the lesser angels spoke to him in private, trying to ease his doubts and try to make things go back to normal. Michael tried to stop him, too, but he chose a far more direct method of holding a flaming sword up to Raphael’s throat and demanding he return to his job of hanging the stars in the sky.  
_

_Funny, Raphael thought as the flaming sword singed the collar of his robe, the only person not trying to stop him was God herself._

***

“Well what about all other religions?!” Pepper asked angrily, “Are you saying they’re wrong?!”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Newt said with a note in his voice that suggested he was now far more afraid of the eleven-year old girl than the exploding angel, “Maybe all the different versions of creation happened? Including the scientific ways?”

Brian nodded in agreement, “My Mum once told me a story about a group of five blind monks finding an elephant in the woods--”

***

_Raphael stole Michael’s sword and all of his issues with the other angels sorted themselves out rather quickly after that._

***

“Is now really the time to talk about this?” Anathema said fast enough to cut off Brian’s story.

“There is a Biblical angel making a mess of our living room.” Replied Newt.

Adam sighed. He had a feeling he was going to be the leader again, even with two adults around. “So what you’re saying is that Raphael remembered something from before the Garden of Eden and that’s making him go all crazy.”

***

**_Raphael._ **

_Ah, Raphael thought as he stood on the edge of Heaven, there She is._

**_What are you doing?_ **

_As if She needed to ask.  
_

_He thought of Lucifer, of golden ichor dripping down his arm and staining his robe. He thought, as he often did these days, of how much hitting the ground must hurt. He thought of the weight pulling him down, no heavier or lighter since the day it appeared.  
_

_“My duty.” Raphael said, as if he needed to answer.  
_

***

“Before the Garden of Eden? Like, building it or something?” Pepper asked.

“Actually,” Wensleydale said smugly, “a whole lot happened before that! We read about it in Sunday School. Everything had to be made, and then the Devil and all of the bad angels fell down into H-E-Double-Hockeysticks, and--”

“Oh.” Anathema said quietly to herself.

***

_“You created me to heal. To tend to the injured. To mend all that has been broken.”_

***

“Oh?” Asked Newt.

***

_“And from what I can tell, my Lord--”_

***

“I wouldn’t be happy about remembering The Fall either.” Said Anathema.

***

_“There are a lot of angels down below that need healing.”_

_She didn’t answer. Raphael wasn’t shocked, really._

_He spread his white wings out wide, took one last deep breath of Heaven’s fresh air, and fell._

_Well. He didn’t really fall. This was closer to gliding. Sauntering, perhaps.  
_

***

“If only we made it to the Here Comes a Thought song.” Said Brian sadly.

Adam gulped. “Okay. Okay. What if we distracted him from the super bad memory? Or stop it by making them unfuse? That should work, right? I don’t think we can hurt them, so we have to get them to fight about something! Like, a really really really big angry fight! Something that they would never agree on!”

***

_Smoke rose up from the depths of Hell, staining Raphael’s once white robes and wings into a soft ashen grey.  
_

_That’ll never come out, Raphael thought to himself as he descended._

_Good._

***

“If the nature of man is inherently good or evil?” Suggested Newt.

Adam shook his head, “No, I think they got that one figured out. They did this big speech and everything.”

“Favorite gem?” Offered Anathema.

Pepper shook her head, “They already had that argument. Crowley likes Pearl and Aziraphale likes Amethyst.”

“Huh,” Said Brian, “Do you think Raphael likes Garnet the best, or Opal?”

“Actually, no one likes Opal.” Said Wensleydale.  


***

_Raphael moved through Hell with ease, healing the damned as best he could. Some fallen angels cursed him for showing kindness. Others thanked him. Even fewer remained silent, staring out at nothing as he wove their broken bodies back together. He worked quickly, as the second he landed could tell that his time there was limited. For as much as he felt the weight of Hell pulling him down in Heaven, he could feel Heaven trying to pull him back twice as hard.  
_

_He didn’t wonder if Heaven had tried to save any of the other angels the same way. He already knew the answer._

_By the time Raphael found Lucifer the pull had grown so strong his feet barely touched the ground. His brother laid in the center of the crater created by his fall, unmoving. Raphael had no concept of death nor did any other celestial beings. He did understand the concept of being broken, shattered, crushed until nothing but dust remained. Raphael fell to his knees next to Lucifer, and prayed for mercy from a God who no longer listened._

_Lucifer stirred. His once golden eyes, now a bottomless shade of black, fluttered open.  
_

_“What in God’s name…are you doing?” Lucifer whispered, each word smothered in ash.  
_

_“This isn’t her will.” Raphael said as he laid his hands on Lucifer’s chest, “It’s mine.”_

***

“You’re two adults,” Said Pepper, “What do you two argue about?”

Newt and Anathema went silent in a way that implied their last argument was not meant for children to hear.

“Ugh, FINE. I’ll do it.” Adam grumbled as he stood up from behind the table. Anathema let out a shriek about not looking, but she didn’t have to worry. Adam had stared Satan in the eye and not even flinched. Seeing an angel’s true form was nothing compared to that.

***

_Raphael rose up.  
_

_Hell was far below him, Lucifer and his fallen angels specks of dust against the land of the damned. The pull was too strong to resist any longer, for as much as he rebelled (in his own way) there was still a part of him loyal to Heaven. He felt Her love calling him home._

_But--_

***

  
“HEY!” Adam shouted over the stifling silence in an attempt to get the angel’s attention.

***

_He didn’t want to go.  
_

_The weight dragging him down may not have been strong enough on its own, but his heart was far heavier. Raphael knew he couldn’t go back. Not after seeing what God had done to the angels who loved her so. Angels who only wanted answers to their questions.  
_

_But--_

***

"RAPHAEL!”

***

_Raphael floated between Heaven and Hell, knowing deep within his heart that he belonged to neither. He was an angel with silvery wings and an ashen robe too stained for Heaven yet too clean for Hell. Oddly enough he was okay with the idea of never returning to Heaven. He was fine with never going back down to Hell. He could live with that just fine._

_But fear lingered in his heart. Fear that scraped his insides clean and drowned his empty heart with misery. Because in that space between worlds Raphael had discovered a fate far worse than anything all the angels or demons could ever imagine._

_He was alone._

***

“WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE TYPE OF ICE CREAM?”

***

 

_And then he wasn’t._

_***_

The light show in the living room subsided into a mere Christmas-display level of blinding. Adam watched the angel’s multi-faceted being calm down into a very plain orb of light. He was honestly a little disappointed. Adam had been hoping for a cool explosion at least.

That’s when he felt the words. Words of an ancient language spoken long before the creation of humans. Yet despite not being able to comprehend what the voice--no, _voices_ \--said, he understood the meaning just fine. Two truths that could not be compromised on. That could never be brought together in harmony. Truths that could split the heavens in half.

 **_VANILLA_** , said one voice.

 **_BUBBLEGUM_** , said the other.

Adam got out the single thought of “There’s bubblegum flavored ice cream?” before everything went white.


	7. The 8th Part is the Epilogue

“ _Bubblegum?!_ ”

Crowley picked himself off the living room floor, too disgusted at the moment to fully comprehend where he was or what he was doing. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is _bubblegum_?”

Aziraphale rolled onto his back and let out a soft groan. “Says the man who only ever gets vanilla.”

“Vanilla,” Crowley said as he patted down his pockets in search of his glasses, “is a perfectly respectable flavor. Bubblegum flavored ice cream is an affront to nature and probably pisses off at least one church.”

Aziraphale stood up--with a little assistance from Crowley--and handed him his sunglasses. “Have you even tried any ice cream flavors besides vanilla?”

“No reason to. Vanilla is impossible to screw up.” Crowley sneered, “And if you want bubblegum you could just chew some bubblegum. Don’t have to drag poor ice cream into the mess.”

“Well in a reasonable universe I would, but _someone_ made sure that all bubblegum loses its flavor instantly and then starts to taste like melted rubber.”

“Oh yeah, that was me.” Crowley chuckled, rather pleased with himself.

Aziraphale’s rebuttal on the Great Ice Cream Debate was silenced by the sound of someone clearing their throat far louder than anyone ever needed to. Only then did it click for the angel and demon that they were standing in Anathema’s now-wrecked living room with a small crowd of children and a husband hiding behind her. She looked a bit miffed.

“Aziraphale?” Anathema asked, her voice unsteady.

“Yes?”

“Crowley?”

“Yeah?”

Anathema stared at the two of them over her glasses. “Anyone else?”

“Anyone else?” Aziraphale asked, “What do you mean anyone--”

“Oh,” Said Crowley, his snake-eyes growing wide, “oh fuck.”

Aziraphale was confused until he also remembered how they got there. He remembered a lot more than that, too. “Oh. Oh _fuck me_.”

***

Crowley and Aziraphale left Anathema’s house silently, the only noise being the sound of the living room being miracled back together and Adam’s suggestion of checking out Adventure Time too. The Bentley was waiting for them outside as if they had driven it there in the first place instead of popping over via phone. They stood together next to the car for far too long before silently getting in and driving off. Even the radio didn’t feel like making any noise.

“That’s why I remember hanging the stars,” Crowley said as they drove past the dark countryside, “makes sense. They never would have given that job to a low-ranking angel like myself. I never questioned it though. Just… sort of accepted the memory.”

“And why I had that bloody sword,” added Aziraphale, “I assumed it came with the job. The general existence of being an angel I mean. Looking back I was the only Principality that had one. Wonder why Michael never asked for it back.”

“He probably thought you picked it up off of our dead body.”

“Would explain a lot.” Aziraphale muttered before the silence between them returned.

The silence hitched a lift with them all the way back to London, only to leave when Crowley asked, “Where do your memories start, angel? Right after the split?”

Azirphale nodded. “My first memory is flying up and just...being at Heaven. Everyone assumed I was a new angel here to help clean up the mess. Shocked they didn’t just hand me a broom and tell me to get on with it.”

“I always assumed falling cleared most my memory out. It’s not like anyone else talked about who they were before. ‘Cept Lucifer. Bastard wouldn’t shut up. I should have sewn his damn mouth shut.”

“ _We_ should have.”

***

Little by little, over the rest of the drive more memories popped up between them. Never a full memory, but when one person faltered the other one easily filled in the blanks. They shared stories of the stars they created, the angels that fell, the Garden in its early days, all bits and pieces from a life that belonged to both of them. By the time they made it back to the bookshop Aziraphale and Crowley stumbled upon the real treasure trove of their shared life: Embarrassing memories of the other Archangels.

“--ate it! He just sat there eating the blue paint like it was a delicious bowl of soup! Thought I was going to sprain a wing just by looking at him! Gabe, I said, I said,” Crowley made a face, “damn, what did we say, angel?”

“We tried to explain to Gabriel that the paint was for creating the plants, and because of that we had to use an off-purple for blueberries. No idea how he managed to get away with that. Humans still complain about them being the wrong color.”

“Feh. Michael covered for ‘em. Thick as thieves those two.” Crowley took a large swig from the bottle in his hand before adding, “Like to see them try to be one person. Couldn’t handle it.”

Crowley had no idea what he was drinking. All he knew was that it was in a bottle, it burned on the way down, but it didn’t smell like paint thinner. It had been the only bottle in arm’s reach of the couch and, now that he found himself leaning against Aziraphale, Crowley didn’t feel like getting up to find something better.

Aziraphale on the other hand knew exactly what they were drinking. He simply chose to be silent because he knew that Crowley probably would have preferred paint thinner over what was actually in the bottle. Not that it stopped Aziraphale from taking a long, painful swig. “Crowley, do you think--”

“No.”

“Didn’t get a chance to finish my thought.”

“Nope.” Crowley said as he draped a leg over Aziraphale’s lap.

“You have no idea what I was going to say.”

“You’re going to wonder if we should mesh back into Raphael since that’s our ‘proper form’ and then probably dither over if staying apart is the better option since we’ve already been individuals for six thousand bloody years. Might toss in something about the nature of souls and free will or quote some knobhead poet to prove your point. Well don’t bother because the way I see it Raphael, I mean we, _we_ literally found a way to tear ourselves in half just so we wouldn’t be lonely anymore. And I don’t know about you, angel, but I’d rather spend eternity with you by my side than be whole.”

Aziraphale paused, the worry lines on his face fading into a warm smile, “Yes, and I wanted to know if you would like to watch more of that cartoon. I’m rather invested and won’t be able to rest until we finish the rest of the season.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, and like that, there was a handy TV in the bookshop where there wasn’t one before. “Alright. But only because I think there’s something fishy going on with Rose Quartz.”

“Rose Quartz? Steven’s _dead mother?_ ”

“Yeah. She’s too perfect. Can’t trust anyone that’s that much of a goody-goody.”

“Really now.” Aziraphale tried to sound annoyed, he really did, but his smile won out in the end.

***

Roughly twelve hours later, the pair, still semi-cuddling on the couch, finally reached what Adam thought to be an extremely important episode for them to watch. They had both jumped a little out of shock when the Garnet-Is-A-Fusion reveal happened (unlike Anathema, they had no idea it was coming) and when she started singing they quickly found themselves at opposite ends of the couch.

Being half of Raphael was fine.

Knowing your literal other-half is always at your side is wonderful.

Having a cartoon directly state that fusions are made out of love was… slightly awkward.

Damn Americans and their lack of subtlety.

“I hope Peridot shows up again,” Aziraphale said as the credits rolled, “I rather like her.”

Crowley let out a small huff that almost sounded like a laugh. “Lapis better return. Poor thing deserves better than that lot.”

They lapsed into silence after that. There they were, two immortal beings who shared a single heart and soul, both awkwardly picking at loose bits of fabric on the couch and doing everything to ignore the them-shaped elephant in the room.

“Aziraphale--”

“Crowley--”

“Oh, I didn’t--”

“Sorry I meant--”

“You can--”

“Go first if you’d like.”

More silence. This one slightly less awkward than before but just as thick.

“I suppose there’s nothing wrong if we occasionally fuse. Not all the time like Garnet, of course, dinners would be dreadfully boring if there’s just one of us.” Aziraphale said, his voice one filled of wistful thoughts.

“Would cut down on public transport costs.” Said Crowley, who was far closer to Aziraphale than he was a second ago.

Aziraphale didn’t magically pop closer to Crowley, but he did slide over the rest of the way so their shoulders were touching. “Might be a good idea if the head offices ever decide to look for us.”

“To hide easier?”

“Oh, I was thinking more of using our combined power to strike them down.”

Crowley let out a far heartier laugh that time, “Thought you were the good half.”

“I must be! I was the one pulled up after all.” Aziraphale wrapped his arm behind Crowley’s shoulders, knowing damn well he could never pull it off as smoothly as the old snake could. Crowley didn’t seem to mind so much as he leaned into Aziraphale’s side. He wondered if Crowley felt the same warmth blossom in his chest. If he too felt a connection between them, as if their very souls were holding hands.

Oh, Aziraphale thought, that does sound lovely.

Crowley must have had the same idea, because he took Aziraphale’s hand in his own and entwined their fingers together. “So. Patron of happy meetings and travel?”

“That does explain a lot of the past few thousand years,” Aziraphale replied, his voice barely a whisper. “Matchmakers and marriages?”

Crowley turned his head to face Aziraphale, his serpent eyes almost sparkling in the dim light, “Think that explains the past few millennia too.”

They moved as one, each freely choosing the same path. Their noses bumped against each other for only a moment before their lips met. It was nothing more than a faint shadow of a kiss between the two of them and not Earth-shattering in the least. The kiss felt like more of a silent confirmation of what they already knew than any real surprise. Still, they both thought in their unique own ways, better safe than sorry. They simply had no choice but to continue the kisses until each was sure their messages got across. Might have to close up the shop for a few days and move to the bedroom just to make sure.

“Angel?” Crowley whispered between kisses.

“My love?” Aziraphale said, the words light on his lips.

“If we mess around does it make it masturbation or--”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale said with a choked laugh before pulling his other half in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ice cream they got in the park at the end reflected the taste of who they were don't @ me


	8. Everything Stays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So long and thanks for all the fish

When Crowley and Aziraphale decided to move to South Downs they made sure to find a cottage with three very important features: One, a secluded garden with walls tall enough to keep Crowley from scaring any neighbors. Two, a room that could be made into a dedicated library for Aziraphale’s books. And three, possibly the most important of all, that at least one room was big enough to dance in.   


“Ready, angel?” Crowley scrolled through his phone looking for the perfect song. He knew what the song was of course, it’s just that the playlist decided to rearrange itself following some ancient laws created before the invention of alphabetical order.   


“Of course my love.” Aziraphale said in a way that let Crowley know that he was absolutely in no way prepared and may never be. His smile did let Crowley know that he trusted his husband enough to follow along anyway.   


Husband wasn’t...exactly what they were. They tried kicking around some other ideas, other words from older languages, but nothing really stuck like husband did. There had been some talk if they should have a wedding but in the end both Crowley and Aziraphale decided a wedding would just be begging for Heaven and Hell to crash the party. That and their human friends already thought they were married and correcting the mortals would deeply embarrass them.   


They did opt for broaches instead of traditional wedding rings: a blue sapphire for Aziraphale and a red ruby for Crowley. An inside joke, but also something a bit more. A promise to never be apart again. A vow that neither of them would ever be alone.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the music started up as he took Aziraphale’s hand. “I’ll lead?”

“You just want to spin me around.” Aziraphale said as he placed his hand on Crowley’s hip, “Is this Love Like You?”   


“Our song.” Crowley whispered before leading Aziraphale in a simple waltz. They had taken ballroom dancing lessons together some months back if only to learn how to dance in public without causing a scene. There had been some slight worry about fusing in front of the class but the waltz never triggered anything. It wasn’t their dance, Aziraphale had decided, so it didn’t count.   


The waltz is a dance that rides the line between easy for beginners and physically impossible to perform with legs. In theory it’s a very simple box step with a fun little twirl at the end. Step up, step to the side, step back, step to the side, hand on your partner’s hip or shoulder, your other hand in theirs, and a soul crushing uncertainty of if you should keep eye contact with your partner or not. What made it so difficult--beyond the eye contact thing--was the fact in order to get it right you have to be in perfect sync with your partner. One wrong move and next thing you know you’re both on the floor rather embarrassed as the rest of the class is forced to dance around you.   


(They were both rather proud of the fact that they had only ended up on the ballroom floor twice during their first class. The first time they practiced at home had also ended with them on the floor together, but that did have a far better resolution than getting scolded by the teacher.)

Step up, step to the side, squeeze Crowley’s hand.   


Step back, step to the side, admire Aziraphale’s soft gaze.

Hand on the hip or shoulder, both thinking of the eternity ahead of them.

Their hands clasped together, neither afraid of what the future would bring.

Finish off with a little spin that almost knocks both men off their feet.   


“Careful love.” Aziraphale said as he helped Crowley steady himself. Over six thousand years and his beloved still wasn’t used to having legs. He paused, allowing a familiar tingle of energy to pass between them. Yes, it had been awhile, hadn’t it? Aziraphale met Crowley’s gaze and knew his husband was thinking the same thing.

“Another dance, angel?”

“Let’s.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers to make the playlist skip ahead a few songs. He savored the way Crowley’s normal smile turned into a full toothy grin. It was like falling in love with him all over again, if slightly faster this time.   


“Stronger Than You?”

“Our song.”

This dance, their dance, was as far as one could get from the waltz while remaining in the same universe. All awkward kicks and hip thrusts that should never have been mixed together on the same dance floor. But this wasn’t to say the dancing was bad. Far from it. Even the most hardened ballroom teacher would be able to admire how Crowley and Aziraphale danced together. They moved lightly, laughing and spinning around each other like two fools who never even considered if anyone else wanted to dance on the head of a pin that night.

Occasionally their hands would brush and the two men would form into one laughing, spinning man in grey clothes before separating into Crowley and Aziraphale once more. They had promised, after all, to never truly part again. And honestly, dancing just isn’t as fun when you’re alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh it'll be short I said, two parts I said, take a weekend I said...
> 
> Thank you everyone for your kudos, your comments, and your encouragement! If you enjoy my writing please check out my other fics or head to my website for information on my non-fic writing. Be sure to tag me as @AughtPunk on twitter or tumblr if you ever make any fan content of my work. No need to ask permission, art and fic is always welcomed!
> 
> \- Fish

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my [Tumblr](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com) for more Overwatch shipping! And don't be afraid to drop a line! I'm lonely! 
> 
> Want to know what happened to Cyber Vale? [Click here!](http://aughtpunk.tumblr.com/post/148519005156/hey-wheres-welcome-to-cyber-vale)
> 
> And check out [My Blog](https://aughtpunk.wordpress.com/) for updates and original fiction!


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